─our temple, your tomb

@[Ivy] 10-21-2019 @ 01:15 AM (This post was last modified: 11-06-2019 @ 04:38 AM by Ivy.)
#1
OOC Account

Ivy

RankPathfinder
LevelFour
ClassBerserker
Gender & HeightMare, 10hh
Age & SeasonImmortal Winter ❅
Crystals 10  ✦
WriterIvy, 2 posts
@[Euryale] 10-21-2019 @ 01:18 AM (This post was last modified: 11-05-2019 @ 10:36 AM by Euryale.)
#2

Euryale

RankPathfinder
LevelOne
ClassSorcerer
Gender & HeightMare, 16.1hh
Age & Season3 Winter ❅
Crystals 100  ✦
WriterIvy, 12 posts
Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out

her heart is filled with violent songs. how her ancient blood, hums with rituals of the occult.  every curve of her is bound in beautiful, lascivious sin.  even her flesh, all crimson, curvaceous and hauntingly soft, shall whisper their songs of poetry and eternal hunger.  her tenderness, is a guise.  in her wickedness, she desires to pull you under her enchantment.  she lures you with the jasmine of her skin.  the scent of her swan-soft hair.  the taste of her cherry lips, swathed in roses and poison and the promise of eternal damnation.  how would it feel - to surrender to her lips? to drown in those eyes, where a hundred more men, have drowned before you? how would it feel - to settle within her arms? to embrace both darkness and tenderness, in the form of a serpent? in the form of a woman?

crystalline droplets, serenade the pool's ebon surface. in the stillness of the caves, it's a haunting aria, that echoes throughout the blackened melancholy, dotted with predatory glowworms. it bathes in the shadows of a subterranean song.  she will hear every ascending noise, echo throughout its bottomless labyrinths.  every whisper of rain-water, sliding away from their jagged ceilings.  dripping below, into a great abyss of smoke and vacant nothingness.  laced, amidst the unsettling tranquility, it's the very demonic essence that suddenly embraces the lilac-haired maiden.  every sliver of masculine heartbeat and rugged waning of breath, that spills like poisoned elixir into the midnight atmosphere.  she almost feels alone, for the quiet way the earth devours her.  for the ghastly emptiness, that drifts across her body as she lies in a river of shadows, waiting for them to come.  am i alone?  but like darkness, he is silent and haunting.  he finally pours into her peripheral vision.  all cobalt-obsidian, elegantly fleshed in chiseled, male muscle.  his scent fills the tight ambiance.  his ash, smoke and cathedral candles, bathing her in primordial ribbons of musky virility.  he fills the emptiness with his chimerical physique.  his muscular body, long and serpentine, as the towering hessian prowls towards her; the feral conviction of a predator, smouldering in his winter stare.

when he nears her watery den, she can almost taste the heat of his flesh, upon her lips.  her head turns, as her eyes trail over his dark skin.  their sable hide, washed in azure; gleaming threads of bone-white, where chaotic stitches travel like bolts of webbed lightning wrapped around his tendons.  his hair falls upon his face. a darkness, that smothers his jawline.  his mouth, an elongated shadow rimmed in jagged slate, making him appear all the more savage and alluring.  he is so different to her vermillion curves, her sensual crimson, her perfectly pale face.  and yet, where the porcelain crawls over his physique - she, too, possesses the same ruinous symmetry.  upon her neck, along her shoulder, and supple breast and thighs; the white crawls, there. vein-like, toxic.  effortlessly, spidering into her sinful curves.  the maiden, purrs.  she eats him the way a prowling lioness eats at a silhouette in the sparse, desert moonlight.  from the darkness, she will watch as the outline of his form, traverses.  she will undress the ivory contours of his face, first; their chiseled, bone-white audits cupping forward, like horned devil's.  the winter of his steely visage, conveying no emotion; their masculine features, swathed in tendrils of nebulous ink, were far too cloying to discern their true nature.

yet already, apart of her (the wolf that lives in her heart), knows what he is.  he is iron.  he is power.  he moves like the coming storm.  every tendon along his viperous torso, executed with patient lethality.  she will see the chill in his otherworldly gaze.  she will hear the steel in his voice.  even his meandering steps, possesses a leonine edge, that promises the hunger of kings.  but where is your kingdom? where is your crown, o king? there is wisedom in his aged, yet handsome face. his ominous features, now gleaming against crystalline hues; refracting bioluminence, that bounces from the lake's surface and rippled in soft, ethereal waves above them.  when he finally halts in his saunter, euryale feels her slender bodice turning towards the behemoth.  her lupine tail sways behind her hips.  lilac tendrils, feathering against the surface of the pool, and flicking back and forth like a wildcat.  a gesture that might have been considered playful, were it naught for her moonlight fangs.  are you afraid to get wet, darling? a soft smile curls the maiden's jaws, yet her gaze is vampiric, hollow. somewhere in their ruby depths, she will find him bewitching.  a hunger to be near him, shall silently possess her.

"perhaps, it's not the ending, but rather our beginning,"  her voice is low, a sing-song hiss, laced in the sirenic melody of almost-laughter, almost-echo.  euryale feels her heart flutter beneath her porcelain breast; beating a monarch's crescendo.  a butterfly wing, that pools hot and flush.  bathing, beneath delicate, crimson skin with the taste of lust and avarice.  her ancient magic begs for release.  every part of her body screams for the ocean. one day, i will be free to sing. perhaps, it's the promise of blood and iron; the underlying destruction, that would flourish from two starving hearts.  perhaps, it's all that physical heat; all that distance, that stretches out like an eternal road, labouring before them.  the burning anticipation, wrestled amongst predators (amongst strangers), lathering like sticky sin upon the unbridled air.  there were but many roads; yet all roads, shall lead to one end.  the night was all but young, and like a slothful mermaid wrapped in her sensuous vanity, euryale languishes against a nearby boulder.  her delicate shoulder, pressed to its cold surface.  her long mane, draping elegantly over stone.  their tendrils a wild cascade of endlessly, beautiful lavender that stumbles like silk-water over sharp rocks.  her devilishly feline eyes, khol-lined and heavily lashed, lazily flicks up at him like a forbidden prayer.  like an angel that has strayed too far from the grace of god, and now sought the adulations of the devil. 

"yet why keep away from the water's edge?"  her silky breath, glides over their honeyed tongue.  her eyes climbs the muscles of his chest, till they inched their delicious way along his throat.  a sudden yet soft breeze sweeps from behind him.  it is as tender as her curves, as delicate as her song, and as wild as the darkness that howls in her blood.  her aerial kiss, will seek to tangle like gentle fingers through the lengths of his mane.  playing with their long, obsidian ends, until the sigh of her witchcraft subsides as swiftly as exhaled breath.  her lips darken from smile to ardent smirk.  an elegantly-sculpted brow, lifting with challenge. utterly feminine, impossibly devious, provoking him with the hellfire of their come-hither gaze. "surely, a man like you, does not shy from the water; nor the creatures in it."

I don't want your money, I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down


─ she pins you to hotel doors, not a goddess anymore ─
but she still looks like religion in high heels; she kisses you, godless
whispers, we dress like princesses to go out and kill kings.

@[Euryale] 10-21-2019 @ 04:39 AM (This post was last modified: 11-02-2019 @ 05:28 AM by Euryale.)
#3

Euryale

RankPathfinder
LevelOne
ClassSorcerer
Gender & HeightMare, 16.1hh
Age & Season3 Winter ❅
Crystals 100  ✦
WriterIvy, 12 posts
my lover's got humour
she's the giggle at a funeral

SHE LIES IN SHADOW. SHE BATHES IN RUIN. OUR DARK ANGEL, SLEEPS ON SABLE FUR MADE FROM THE BONES OF A TORTURED ( BROKEN ) HEAVEN. THE LUXURIOUS OCEAN LIT LIKE AZURE GRANITE, AND STREAMING COLD AND RAMPANT; AS WET LIQUID ENVELOPES THAT CURVACEOUS BODICE, LIKE SOME CARNAL SACRIFICE WHISPERED AMONG  EVIL. IT IS IN HER SENSUAL IMAGE. IN THE SOFT CURVE OF HER LIPS AND DEADLY, ALLURING BODY.  A VIOLENT BEAUTY, SWATHED IN THE DELICIOUS LANGUAGE OF BLOOD-STAINED HUNGER; I AM THEIR WILD ROSE; I AM THEIR SALVATION - THROUGH ME, WILL THEY FIND THEIR EDEN

O, THE CADAVEROUS, PHANTOM SHRINE OF TERMINUS SEA, STIRS BENEATH THE ETHEREAL SUMMITS OF THEIR MOUNTAIN LIKE A TEMPLE. THE SOFT, CARNAL RUMBLE OF WATER, RUNS DEEP AND WET; GLISSADING, THROUGH MOUNTAINOUS CORRIDOR, IN THE DAMP TRICKLE OF BLACK, BIO-LUMINESCENT STREAM. HOW COLD, HER SKIN; TO TOUCH FLESH AS THOUGH CARVED FROM ICE AND MARBLE. AND HER MURDEROUS BEAUTY; HER PALE FACE; WITH ALL ITS FEMININE EXOTICISM, TO RIVAL EVEN THAT OF THE MOON'S ALLUREMENT. OUR DARK ANGEL, IN HER MOMENTS OF SECRECY, OF TRANQUILLITY; EMITS A POISONED SWEETNESS, UNLIKE ANY OTHER ROSE. AND HOW SHE REVEALS IN THE POWER OF HER SEDUCTION.

BATHED IN MOONLIGHT, INCENSE WANES AND SHADOWS DESCEND THE SEAS. CARESS, AFTER COLLECTIVE CARESS. A FERVENT DISPLAY OF RITUALISTIC HUNGER AND ALMOST UNNATURAL (FRIGHTENING) ENCHANTMENT; THE NEEDS OF A SOUL, TO BE SATED BY THIRST AND WRATHFUL INCLINATION. O, HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE SHE LAST ESCAPED HELL?  TO FEEL THE BITTER HUNGER OF ITS FLAME? OR TO TASTE THAT VIOLENT KISS OF ALL-CONSUMING FIRE?  SHE IS THAT WRATHFUL FALLEN ANGEL; OUR SLENDER, SUN-KISSED EURYALE BATHED OF BLACK WATERS. SUBMERGED. KNEELING IN SUBORDINATION BY ITS WATERY ALTAR; WICKED AND ENSLAVED TO THE DESIRES OF A DARK GOD. AND SO, IN THE AZULINE GLOW OF BARELY-THERE MOONLIGHT, DOES SHE PRAY, PRAY, PRAY.

SHE WANTS TO WASH AWAY ALL THE BLOOD.  SHE WANTS TO WASH AWAY ALL HER SINS.  THE WATER HISSES UPON HER BODY.  SHE IS OBSCURED BY THE LAVENDER CURLS THAT LATHER HER BREASTBONE AND GATHER UPON HER GRACEFUL NECKLINE.  SOFTENING, THE SMOOTH LINES OF IVORY CONTOURS.  HER SIRENIC FEATURES WERE BLURRED BENEATH THE AMOROUS FABRIC OF CASCADING WATER. THE BLUE CHIFFON SILK WEAVES IN AND OUT LIKE A DRESS, A SULTRY TRANSLUCENCY, AKIN TO THE FRIGID GRASP OF UNDEAD HANDS. FOR HOURS SHE LAYS IN THE BLACK LIQUID. THE WATER HUMS, AS THOUGH MOMENTARILY ALIVE. BEFORE SLIPPING INTO COMATOSE SILENCE, FOREVER. EURYALE RISES THEN. SHE STANDS IN CHEST-DEEP WATER, WITH THE OCEAN'S THRUM, CRASHING LIGHTLY UPON HER BREAST.  WATER TRICKLES DOWN HER BROW AND CURLS BENEATH HER CHIN.  THE FADED MEMORY OF A DREAM WERE STILL LINGERING UPON HER LIPS LIKE A LOVER'S KISS. OR WAS IT, CURSE? WAS IT NIGHTMARE?

euryale closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.  she embraces the icy sensation that travels like fevered whispers across her spine.  o, how the ocean washes over her body; smoothing down her hips with gilded hands, as liquid seperates lilac curls like floating tendrils upon black oil.  behind her, upon the shore, lies the carcass of a dead stag she has killed this evening. a fire, bright and hungry,  lights across the bloodied sand; their embers, rising with smoke and heat towards the blackness and the moon.

the only heaven i'll be sent to
is when i'm alone with you



─ she pins you to hotel doors, not a goddess anymore ─
but she still looks like religion in high heels; she kisses you, godless
whispers, we dress like princesses to go out and kill kings.

@[Euryale] 10-21-2019 @ 04:41 AM (This post was last modified: 11-02-2019 @ 05:28 AM by Euryale.)
#4

Euryale

RankPathfinder
LevelOne
ClassSorcerer
Gender & HeightMare, 16.1hh
Age & Season3 Winter ❅
Crystals 100  ✦
WriterIvy, 12 posts
my lover's got humour
she's the giggle at a funeral

SHE LIES IN SHADOW. SHE BATHES IN RUIN. OUR DARK ANGEL, SLEEPS ON SABLE FUR MADE FROM THE BONES OF A TORTURED ( BROKEN ) HEAVEN. THE LUXURIOUS OCEAN LIT LIKE AZURE GRANITE, AND STREAMING COLD AND RAMPANT; AS WET LIQUID ENVELOPES THAT CURVACEOUS BODICE, LIKE SOME CARNAL SACRIFICE WHISPERED AMONG  EVIL. IT IS IN HER SENSUAL IMAGE. IN THE SOFT CURVE OF HER LIPS AND DEADLY, ALLURING BODY.  A VIOLENT BEAUTY, SWATHED IN THE DELICIOUS LANGUAGE OF BLOOD-STAINED HUNGER; I AM THEIR WILD ROSE; I AM THEIR SALVATION - THROUGH ME, WILL THEY FIND THEIR EDEN

O, THE CADAVEROUS, PHANTOM SHRINE OF TERMINUS SEA, STIRS BENEATH THE ETHEREAL SUMMITS OF THEIR MOUNTAIN LIKE A TEMPLE. THE SOFT, CARNAL RUMBLE OF WATER, RUNS DEEP AND WET; GLISSADING, THROUGH MOUNTAINOUS CORRIDOR, IN THE DAMP TRICKLE OF BLACK, BIO-LUMINESCENT STREAM. HOW COLD, HER SKIN; TO TOUCH FLESH AS THOUGH CARVED FROM ICE AND MARBLE. AND HER MURDEROUS BEAUTY; HER PALE FACE; WITH ALL ITS FEMININE EXOTICISM, TO RIVAL EVEN THAT OF THE MOON'S ALLUREMENT. OUR DARK ANGEL, IN HER MOMENTS OF SECRECY, OF TRANQUILLITY; EMITS A POISONED SWEETNESS, UNLIKE ANY OTHER ROSE. AND HOW SHE REVEALS IN THE POWER OF HER SEDUCTION.

BATHED IN MOONLIGHT, INCENSE WANES AND SHADOWS DESCEND THE SEAS. CARESS, AFTER COLLECTIVE CARESS. A FERVENT DISPLAY OF RITUALISTIC HUNGER AND ALMOST UNNATURAL (FRIGHTENING) ENCHANTMENT; THE NEEDS OF A SOUL, TO BE SATED BY THIRST AND WRATHFUL INCLINATION. O, HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE SHE LAST ESCAPED HELL?  TO FEEL THE BITTER HUNGER OF ITS FLAME? OR TO TASTE THAT VIOLENT KISS OF ALL-CONSUMING FIRE?  SHE IS THAT WRATHFUL FALLEN ANGEL; OUR SLENDER, SUN-KISSED EURYALE BATHED OF BLACK WATERS. SUBMERGED. KNEELING IN SUBORDINATION BY ITS WATERY ALTAR; WICKED AND ENSLAVED TO THE DESIRES OF A DARK GOD. AND SO, IN THE AZULINE GLOW OF BARELY-THERE MOONLIGHT, DOES SHE PRAY, PRAY, PRAY.

SHE WANTS TO WASH AWAY ALL THE BLOOD.  SHE WANTS TO WASH AWAY ALL HER SINS.  THE WATER HISSES UPON HER BODY.  SHE IS OBSCURED BY THE LAVENDER CURLS THAT LATHER HER BREASTBONE AND GATHER UPON HER GRACEFUL NECKLINE.  SOFTENING, THE SMOOTH LINES OF IVORY CONTOURS.  HER SIRENIC FEATURES WERE BLURRED BENEATH THE AMOROUS FABRIC OF CASCADING WATER. THE BLUE CHIFFON SILK WEAVES IN AND OUT LIKE A DRESS, A SULTRY TRANSLUCENCY, AKIN TO THE FRIGID GRASP OF UNDEAD HANDS. FOR HOURS SHE LAYS IN THE BLACK LIQUID. THE WATER HUMS, AS THOUGH MOMENTARILY ALIVE. BEFORE SLIPPING INTO COMATOSE SILENCE, FOREVER. EURYALE RISES THEN. SHE STANDS IN CHEST-DEEP WATER, WITH THE OCEAN'S THRUM, CRASHING LIGHTLY UPON HER BREAST.  WATER TRICKLES DOWN HER BROW AND CURLS BENEATH HER CHIN.  THE FADED MEMORY OF A DREAM WERE STILL LINGERING UPON HER LIPS LIKE A LOVER'S KISS. OR WAS IT, CURSE? WAS IT NIGHTMARE?

euryale closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.  she embraces the icy sensation that travels like fevered whispers across her spine.  o, how the ocean washes over her body; smoothing down her hips with gilded hands, as liquid seperates lilac curls like floating tendrils upon black oil.  behind her, upon the shore, lies the carcass of a dead stag she has killed this evening. a fire, bright and hungry,  lights across the bloodied sand; their embers, rising with smoke and heat towards the blackness and the moon.

the only heaven i'll be sent to
is when i'm alone with you



─ she pins you to hotel doors, not a goddess anymore ─
but she still looks like religion in high heels; she kisses you, godless
whispers, we dress like princesses to go out and kill kings.

@[Euryale] 11-02-2019 @ 05:55 AM
#5

Euryale

RankPathfinder
LevelOne
ClassSorcerer
Gender & HeightMare, 16.1hh
Age & Season3 Winter ❅
Crystals 100  ✦
WriterIvy, 12 posts
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black

her youth is her deceit.  lupine jaws, hide her beauty.  beneath intoxicating lashes, those red eyes reveal their violence.  her soul is ancient scripture. her heart, every lovers' apocalypse.  draw close to her, and you shall read their tragedies.  they lace with immortal blood, between the shrine of her ribs.  as ancient as the relationship between moon and sea. as cold as time and death, itself.

she is the sensuous dark angel, descending the Byzantine stairwells of sheol. she bathes in its darkness. its labyrinthine ruin. behind the vampiric maiden, flows a silken veil of lush tresses. their heavy, lilac strands, dripping with luminosity; trailing, a priestess' burial gown, against the deep gloaming of wormwood, of soil.  her hair dances like a funeral veil, floating, against the misty contours of her alluring visage. luminous curls, tousled around soft, female shoulders; their tendrils, a sateen cadence glossed against the caramel edges of her jasmine-kissed skin.  as the intimacy of the evening folds around her, her lips shall curl with devilish rapture. feline bliss, roving against the chill of their embrace.  these stygian realms, as old and as ancient as time itself, fills her, completely. they scream for her needs. her wants - her darkest desires. 

a living, breathing phantasm, bending to her sirenic heart.  it's the trickling hymm of liquid, cascading over brusque limestone, that echoes against these desolate chambers. the laconic radiance of water, pooling black liquid against hushed crystal;  their iridescent opal stones, shining in the darkness of a long fogotten realm.  when euryale dances through their amethyst shadows, she imagines herself draped over a gilded throne; the obsidian castles in her dreams.  their water temples, lying deep underground.  rumbling, like a god in sinister dormancy. there were visions of lust, greed and deadly attraction.  a shattered throne, a broken crown; they were all intimate memories of an exiled queen.  o, and how long has it been? since she first tasted power upon her lips? to feel the narrow blade of a sword, pressed to her breast - to relish the visceral copper along their stained silver, that which her enemies spilled? o, she feels the dark earth, moving against her body - and when the earth pulls its ragged caress along her flesh.  she knows the earth to be as alive and as ancient, as she. breathing, against her heart with all the promise of an immortal lover. 

against the jowls of its feral touch, she sighs.  against the wicked lawlessness of its primordial promise, her blood sings. her soul, siren whispers of black ritual that dance passionately in their mortal coil.  she is scarlet beauty, drenched in sable lace. she is sweet, sweet sin, and her heart belongs to their infinite darkness.  deeper, she descends.  hungry for release.  salivating, to taste a violent, bitter end.  the grotto's jagged walls, how they'd immaculately hug the sinous curves of her vulpine figure.  stalagmites, precariously, whistling up above her.  ebon rocks, towering before the subterrean underworld like some twisted, funeral pyre - a Babylonian citadel, for all their wicked angels and sinners. their pillars carved of stardust, salt, and limestone, would echo the great vastness of space. their faceted edges, laced in sharp angles, roaming hungrily over her body as though they'd worship only beauty and grace. their salivating points, sliding bone-teeth over supple, feminine skin. how they claw for her flesh. dancing, towards her neckline; shoulders; hips - her sloping backside, wildly sensual in their endless invitation raked by sable talons of need.  lacing her in a thick, tantalizing web of shadow.  it's intoxicating, to be engulfed by so much darkness.  to feel the stony caress of the caves, brush their clandestine jaws against her.  to feel the earth, one with her flesh.  she never wants to leave - o, why would she? why would she?

euryale has always been a maiden of the moon.  she, who so loved the earth, the wilderness, the forests. a priestess of feral perceptivity, and the iron breath of her predatory intuition, always, seeking its spectral blade against the warmth of her blood-red curves.  o, and is she not the devil's mistress? does she not dance in the curves of a serpent; hourglass curvature, and come-hither, womanly prowess laced in elegant beryl. all that femininity; all that crimson. her visage, angelic; and yet, her heart is all hunger - all demon.  enter, the red queen; "come away with me," her voice is swan-soft and ethereal. cooing against silken lips in their heavenly lull.  she sings, softly, ushering lyrical melodies past her lips with every sultry hiss of indignation.  "come away with me, into the water," silvery purrs, croon from her tongue.  singing honeyed notes, as she descends into a shallow pool, languid and languishing.  her long hair, trails against svelte limbs. their tendrils, fanning upon their sleek, onyx surface, as she saunters yet into their moist depths.  she pulls a bone comb from the swell of her lilac curls, running its ivory teeth through the tangled lengths of her mane; brushing each unearthly strand.  teasing their ends, delicately.

she sings with swan's abandon.  gracing the black pool  with her elegantly, mysterious aura.  a siren, succumbing, to the hush of trickling fountains; their wandering desolation, an underground music of riveting melancholy.  it's only then - between the first breath of suspicion - does she feel the covert stirrings of wintry trepidation. the sinuous omen of danger. the impeding jaws of deadly, promise.  they were the orchestrated silence of the devil.  serpentine.  calculating.  she will feel their ice first, as a shiver coils invisible, clammy digits over her spine.  she will taste their raw masculinity; smouldering, hotly against the dank haze.  their sinister concealment, a looming gargoyle exquisitely hid amongst the gnarled, spiraling catacombs. the archaic incense of worn-parchment; the musk of wax and candle; ancient smells of the damned, the wicked, permeating like iron through the musky air. their dust and ruination will brush past delicate, ivory nares as she yet drinks the sleuth-approach of their entity.  they are primeval, otherworldly.  if evil did have a taste, it would taste just like this.

"soothing, isn't it?" euryale's sultry voice, taunts with angelic softness. she does not turn around as she croons, but continues to brush her hair, languidly.  before slipping the bone-comb, back within fluttering, tender lilac. "for one, to be surrounded in complete darkness," the hiss leaves her tongue. her arctic femininity, lacing each bewitching syllable in a sea of insufferable chill.  when at last the maiden turns around to face her veiled devil, a coldly, alluring smile ghosts the slender curvature of her jaws. ivory fangs, gleaming against such girlish, silk-white visage.  her audits cup forward, greedily receptive for any given sign of life.  her eyes, blazing to devour flesh;  discerning smooth, raven threads and swarthy, facial contours, far too saturated in nebulous ink to truly unravel their mystery.  she seems to eat at the blackness, for the bestial way her gaze, consumes. carmine pupils, razing molten fire; climbing over nightfall skin and shadowy enigma. "and yet, two bodies in the dark;  one can only imagine, the many possible endings ..." her whisper is delicious.  she wants to lure them into her path.  tempt them from the tenebrous shade, and into the swollen glitz of liquid that hums with crystal illumination.  she wants to put a face to this darkness.  she wants the devil's name. "so.  which ending are you?"

If I look hard enough into the settin' sun
My love will laugh with me before the mornin' comes


─ she pins you to hotel doors, not a goddess anymore ─
but she still looks like religion in high heels; she kisses you, godless
whispers, we dress like princesses to go out and kill kings.

@[Euryale] 11-06-2019 @ 03:24 AM (This post was last modified: 11-06-2019 @ 04:49 AM by Euryale.)
#6

Euryale

RankPathfinder
LevelOne
ClassSorcerer
Gender & HeightMare, 16.1hh
Age & Season3 Winter ❅
Crystals 100  ✦
WriterIvy, 12 posts
Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart
Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart

SHE LIES IN SHADOW. SHE BATHES IN RUIN. OUR DARK ANGEL, SLEEPS ON SABLE FUR MADE FROM THE BONES OF A TORTURED ( BROKEN ) HEAVEN. THE LUXURIOUS OCEAN LIT LIKE AZURE GRANITE, AND STREAMING COLD AND RAMPANT; AS WET LIQUID ENVELOPES THAT CURVACEOUS BODICE, LIKE SOME CARNAL SACRIFICE WHISPERED AMONG  EVIL. IT IS IN HER SENSUAL IMAGE. IN THE SOFT CURVE OF HER LIPS AND DEADLY, ALLURING BODY.  A VIOLENT BEAUTY, SWATHED IN THE DELICIOUS LANGUAGE OF BLOOD-STAINED HUNGER; I AM THEIR WILD ROSE; I AM THEIR SALVATION - THROUGH ME, WILL THEY FIND THEIR EDEN

O, THE CADAVEROUS, PHANTOM SHRINE OF TERMINUS SEA, STIRS BENEATH THE ETHEREAL SUMMITS OF THEIR MOUNTAIN LIKE A TEMPLE. THE SOFT, CARNAL RUMBLE OF WATER, RUNS DEEP AND WET; GLISSADING, THROUGH MOUNTAINOUS CORRIDOR, IN THE DAMP TRICKLE OF BLACK, BIO-LUMINESCENT STREAM. HOW COLD, HER SKIN; TO TOUCH FLESH AS THOUGH CARVED FROM ICE AND MARBLE. AND HER MURDEROUS BEAUTY; HER PALE FACE; WITH ALL ITS FEMININE EXOTICISM, TO RIVAL EVEN THAT OF THE MOON'S ALLUREMENT. OUR DARK ANGEL, IN HER MOMENTS OF SECRECY, OF TRANQUILLITY; EMITS A POISONED SWEETNESS, UNLIKE ANY OTHER ROSE. AND HOW SHE REVEALS IN THE POWER OF HER SEDUCTION.

BATHED IN MOONLIGHT, INCENSE WANES AND SHADOWS DESCEND THE SEAS. CARESS, AFTER COLLECTIVE CARESS. A FERVENT DISPLAY OF RITUALISTIC HUNGER AND ALMOST UNNATURAL (FRIGHTENING) ENCHANTMENT; THE NEEDS OF A SOUL, TO BE SATED BY THIRST AND WRATHFUL INCLINATION. O, HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE SHE LAST ESCAPED HELL?  TO FEEL THE BITTER HUNGER OF ITS FLAME? OR TO TASTE THAT VIOLENT KISS OF ALL-CONSUMING FIRE?  SHE IS THAT WRATHFUL FALLEN ANGEL; OUR SLENDER, SUN-KISSED EURYALE BATHED OF BLACK WATERS. SUBMERGED. KNEELING IN SUBORDINATION BY ITS WATERY ALTAR; WICKED AND ENSLAVED TO THE DESIRES OF A DARK GOD. AND SO, IN THE AZULINE GLOW OF BARELY-THERE MOONLIGHT, DOES SHE PRAY, PRAY, PRAY.

SHE WANTS TO WASH AWAY ALL THE BLOOD.  SHE WANTS TO WASH AWAY ALL HER SINS.  THE WATER HISSES UPON HER BODY.  SHE IS OBSCURED BY THE LAVENDER CURLS THAT LATHER HER BREASTBONE AND GATHER UPON HER GRACEFUL NECKLINE.  SOFTENING, THE SMOOTH LINES OF IVORY CONTOURS.  HER SIRENIC FEATURES WERE BLURRED BENEATH THE AMOROUS FABRIC OF CASCADING WATER. THE BLUE CHIFFON SILK WEAVES IN AND OUT LIKE A DRESS, A SULTRY TRANSLUCENCY, AKIN TO THE FRIGID GRASP OF UNDEAD HANDS. FOR HOURS SHE LAYS IN THE BLACK LIQUID. THE WATER HUMS, AS THOUGH MOMENTARILY ALIVE. BEFORE SLIPPING INTO COMATOSE SILENCE, FOREVER. EURYALE RISES THEN. SHE STANDS IN CHEST-DEEP WATER, WITH THE OCEAN'S THRUM, CRASHING LIGHTLY UPON HER BREAST.  WATER TRICKLES DOWN HER BROW AND CURLS BENEATH HER CHIN.  THE FADED MEMORY OF A DREAM WERE STILL LINGERING UPON HER LIPS LIKE A LOVER'S KISS. OR WAS IT, CURSE? WAS IT NIGHTMARE?

euryale closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.  she embraces the icy sensation that travels like fevered whispers across her spine.  o, how the ocean washes over her body; smoothing down her hips with gilded hands, as liquid seperates lilac curls like floating tendrils upon black oil.  behind her, upon the shore, lies the carcass of a dead stag she has killed this evening. a fire, bright and hungry,  lights across the bloodied sand; their embers, rising with smoke and heat towards the blackness and the moon.

Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers
Starts so soft and sweet, and turns them to hunters



─ she pins you to hotel doors, not a goddess anymore ─
but she still looks like religion in high heels; she kisses you, godless
whispers, we dress like princesses to go out and kill kings.


Current time: 11-13-2019, 01:41 AM.
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Omne: A Fantasy Animal Roleplay BIANDRI.